


All of Me

by inthestars



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:39:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthestars/pseuds/inthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You always had a love for the stars. You loved the way they outlasted lifetimes. You'd like to spend your lifetime getting to know the star that shines brightest in your universe, and she's named Laura. </p><p>__________________</p><p>College AU where Carmilla Karnstein is a total sap for Laura Hollis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> Be patient with me, this is the first fic I've ever written.  
> I just needed this to be out there in the universe, I suppose.  
> It's a work in progress, but I hope it's okay!

She walks by you on a Monday.

She walks past you like you hadn't watched her cry herself to pieces all those years ago. Logically, though, you understand that Laura Hollis has never actually been anything more to you than an acquaintance. Hell, you haven't seen her in fifteen years, you're not even one hundred percent sure that it's actually her. Or at least you weren't sure until the girl walking past you wrinkles her nose as she looks around the building and you flash back to a tiny face with freckles smattered across her nose and sunshine in her eyes, and you know that you haven't mistaken her identity.

Despite your best efforts to ignore it, you feel a slight twinge of pain when you realize that this girl hasn't even noticed you. It's not that it bothers you that this girl doesn't acknowledge your presence, and it's not that you need a nod of recognition from her to validate your existence...it's just that you remember so vividly the way her little five year old smile lit up her face when you finally coaxed a laugh out of her after you'd calmed her tears. You think that maybe she has forgotten that day, so you sigh as you walk away, and think that maybe things are better that way.

(You roll your eyes at yourself for becoming so disgustingly nostalgic over this whisp of a girl you hardly know)

(But you have to admit you don't mind the idea of five year old Laura Hollis forgetting a bad day) 

//

Kirsch strides through the door and you nearly fall out of your seat.  
He has a smug smile on his face as he slides into the chair next to you and offers you a casual, "Sup, Bro?"  
You try your best to look disinterested because you know that he's looking for a reaction, but you're so confused about what the hell he's doing in your Women in Literature class.  
"Beefcake, -" you begin and you must have started to say it in your you-must-be-confused-Kirsch voice, because he interrupts you before you even get another word out by saying, "I know you weren't expecting to see me in this class, but what better way to pick up babes than to let them know that you care about where they're coming from, you know?"

Your mouth drops open, and you know it drops open, but are you actually hearing these words out of Kirsch's mouth? Yes, Kirsch has always been girl crazy. Yes, you know that the words that just fell past his lips make him sound like he's one of those tools just looking for a girl that has the IQ of a goldfish. But you also know that Kirsch really means what he is saying. He really does want to understand how women work and you smirk at that point because god, does he need the help.

Your smirk immediately slides off your face in favor of a surprised drop of your jaw (for the second time in five minutes) when hear somebody say, "I seem to recall you hating English classes, Carmilla." from the seat right next to you. You turn your head and find yourself face to face with Laura Hollis. 

"People change, cupcake." You quip back at her as you raise one of your eyebrows. She stares at you for a second but before you can figure out what the expression she's making means, the professor begins talking and she immediately directs her attention his way.

"Damn, who is that little hottie?" Kirsch whispers just loud enough for you to hear. As you shove him back over to his desk you realize that you're very interested in discovering who she is as well.

//

Your alarm clock goes off on a Saturday as loud as a firetruck. You don't even bother lifting your head off your pillow as you reach over to your bedside table and hit the off button and fall back asleep. Less than five minutes later, the thing goes off again and you groan as you reach down to where you know it's plugged into the wall and yank the cord from its socket. It takes you a second to realize that the thing is still going off, so you finally lift your head in disbelief. It's then that you notice that this alarm is coming from your dresser across the room. 

"What the frilly hell..?" You mutter as you chuck your pillow across the room. When the offending noise cuts off as the pillow makes contact, you flop back down on your bed. You've just fallen back asleep and you're dreaming of starlight and something that smells vaguely like summertime when your phone starts blasting Taylor Swifts "Bad Blood" into your ear.

You're so startled that you practically fall out of your bed and into the pile of clothing sitting next to it. "BABY NOW WE GOT BAD BLOOD"  
You rub your head from where it made contact with one of your guarded boots as you make sense of the noise. "WE USED TO HAVE MAD LOVE"  
The song is so incredibly loud and it is certainly not a song you would ever even download onto your phone. "SO TAKE A LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE"  
It clicks in your head, though, why you're being forced into this hell, when an image of Kirsch humming that song in your shared English class flickers across your memory.

You're going to kill the gigantic idiot.

You have finally located your traitorous phone when an image of Kirsch passed out on his fraternity couch wearing no shirt and a viking hat pops up on your phone for an incoming call and the damn song starts playing all over again.

"You gigantic moron, I swear to god I'm going to get you back for this. What possessed you to think that waking me at this ungodly hour was acceptable?" 

"Listen homie, I know that in Carmilla world it's probably still pre-dawn, but the rest of us normal people are already out and getting on with our day."

You're about to bite back something about there being nothing normal about people waking up before the sun when you finally get a look at the alarm clock that gigantic donkey of a best friend of yours managed to sneak into your room. It's blinking 1:00 pm at you in taunting red lights and you feel like throwing a pillow at it all over again just for having the gall to contradict your perfectly logical argument. 

"Okay fine Kirsch," you sigh and push your hair out of your face, "what do you want?"

You can hear the over-excitement in his voice when he tells you to meet him on the soccer field in fifteen minutes. Then the kid actually hangs up on you without bothering to listen to you complain. He knows you'll always show up when he asks you to, and you hate him for being so unaffected by your cavalier demeanor.

You show up to the soccer field thirty minutes later, partially because you needed to actually make yourself look presentable, but mostly out of spite for having to drag yourself out of bed and because that damn Taylor Swift song is now stuck in your head. You get out of your car and start walking over to the grass and the second your feet make contact with the green field, you feel a piece of yourself settle a little. You haven't played soccer since your freshman year in college but you still remember the rush of excitement and belonging from the days when soccer was still the thing you clung to. You're not too upset that you've finally allowed that chapter of your life to end because you've come to peace with the fact that soccer isn't the most important thing in life. Even so, the scar on your ankle from where the bones had poked through still burn an unwelcome reminder of what you could have been whenever you step onto a pitch or see someone playing. 

Kirsch is nowhere in sight despite the fact that you showed up fifteen minutes late. If he had told you to meet him any place else, you would be annoyed, but here you can breathe. You're just staring at the far side of the field day dreaming about some of your favorite plays from when you were actually healthy enough to play when he comes jogging into sight. Unsurprisingly, he's dressed in an overly enthusiastic outfit for the venue. He's wearing a canadian womens national team jersey that you're pretty sure he stole from your closet, a pair of shorts, and he even has a sweatband running across his forehead. 

He reaches you and that giant goofy smile on his face looks so ridiculous that you can only shake your head at him and raise an eyebrow. "You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I pass out from sleep deprivation or boredom." 

His cheeks get a little bit pink as he begins word vomiting all about some girl in your English class named SJ. He's babbling on an on about how she's so smart and so pretty and "Carmilla, she's such a strong, independent, hottie!" 

You're trying to pay attention to his love-speach, you really are. The thing is that you can't remember anyone named SJ. All you can think about is how Laura Hollis sits right next to you and you are two weeks into the semester and she clearly knows who you are, but she still hasnt said more to you than the single sentence that first day. 

"Carmilla, I need you to teach me how to soccer." Kirsch's voice is quiet and unsure, you think because he knows about how hard it was for you to accept your career-ending injury. When you give him a questioning look, he quickly clarifies, "I need you to teach me how to soccer because SJ is really good at soccer. She's the starting widefielder for Silas and she wants me to go with her to a pick-up game next month. I really want to go but I don't know how to play." He has the decency to look sheepish and so you cave.

"Okay Beefcake, but we have a lot of work to do. For one thing, it's MIDfielder not widefielder." You already know you're going to regret this decision but its your best friend and its and excuse to spend some time with the sport you loved, so really, what is there to regret?

//

You order a steamed apple juice on a Wednesday. The kid behind you scoffs when you place your order, so you turn around and wipe the judgmental look off his face with an icy glare. Sure, your drink contains no caffeine, and maybe it makes you seem like an overgrown six year old, but it tastes like winter and fall combined. Someone sitting across from the door reaches up and over their head to stretch and the movement catches your eye.  
Her hair is sticking up in random places, she's trying to stifle a yawn, and you can see little crumpled up paper bags scattered around the table. If the chocolate croissants she walks into class with every morning are indication, you'd be willing to be those paper bags had at one point contained some type of baked goods.

You turn back to the barista and order a hot chocolate, too.

//

You're considering skipping class when you see a flash of honey hair.  
You aren't sure where this affinity for Laura Hollis comes from, but before you can stop yourself, your legs are already carrying you in her direction.

"Well hey there, cupcake." You say when you're close enough for her to hear you. 

"Well if it isnt the big bad vampire herself!" She tilts her head your way slightly and slows her steps enough for you to catch up and walk side by side. 

You run your tongue under your incisors as her words send you into a whirlwind of memories. 

Laura Hollis walking into your kindergarten class, wearing a big pink bow tied into her ponytail and purple shoes on her feet.  
Laura Hollis striding right up to the corner of the class room where you were sitting playing with magnetic letters.  
Laura Hollis asking if you could teach her how to pronounce the word you were spelling.  
Laura Hollis struggling through the word "vampire" and wrinkling her nose at you when you giggled because her "r" came out sounding more like "or". You quickly assured her it was okay that she didn't know that word because it was the biggest one you had learned so far. You also made sure to tell her that the only reason you had learned how to spell that one was because that's what you wanted to be for Halloween. Maman would only allow it if you could prove that you could spell it the way an intelligent young girl would make a proper proposal.  
Laura Hollis becoming your best friend.

"Carm? Don't get lost in there." Laura's voice brings you back from all of your memories and you feel a blush rising in your cheeks.

Okay, maybe Laura Hollis does know you a little better than you gave her credit for on the Monday she walked by you like she hadn't known you.

Laura starts walking away from you and suddenly you decide that maybe you shouldn't skip this class.  
You know... just in case the professor says something important.  
So you fall back into step with Laura for the first time in 15 years.  
You aren't sure why it feels like you're on your way home.


	2. Nicknames Sound Like Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a glimpse of happy baby Laura and broody grown Carmilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's monsooning here in Oregon and I'm avoiding studying for finals, so here's chapter two!
> 
> Comments are welcome! I'm still trying to get a feel for this style of writing!

You're not sure how to act around Laura.

Neither of you really talk to each other, but it has become a routine for you to walk to class together now. 

It confuses you how quiet and reserved Laura seems to be these days because the tiny Laura that you once knew was a walking radio. The girl never stopped chattering about anything and everything, which suited you just fine because it meant you didn't have to talk. You remember a ball of energy, zipping around the playground tugging you along by your wrist. 

//

"Come on, Carm!" Laura called as she took off toward the jungle gym. She had walked into your life only days ago, and already she had given you a nickname. 

You scrunched up your face a little because you know that Maman would not approve. She would tell you that young ladies always go by their given names and that nicknames were for babies who cannot yet pronounce words properly. You had heard the speech before when she had seen one of your drawings you made at school with the name "Milla" proudly scratched on top in wobbly red crayon letters. Will had said his first words just a few days before, all wide eyes and innocent face. He had his fat little hand curled around your finger when he had said " 'Milla!". You aren't positive your name really counted as a first word, especially because he couldnt say the first half, but your heart swelled with love and pride. You had started signing everything at school " 'Milla" after that because it made you smile and think of your little brother. Now, though, Maman was staring at the picture you had drawn her with a look of disgust and you knew you had disappointed her. Nicknames, you decided, were not for big girls. You had just turned five last month, so you knew that you were a big girl now.

"Carm?" Laura called again and instead of correcting her like you did to that bean stalk of a redhead in the other kindergarten class when she had tried to call you Carmel at lunch, you simply follow Laura's voice to the tunnel in the playground where she sat expectantly. You kind of like the way your new friend makes you feel like a nickname is something to be proud of instead of something to be ashamed of.

"Look at this!" Laura says the second you climb down into the tunnel. She pulls a little box out from behind her and pushes it into your hands. 

"What is it?" You ask her as you hold the box lightly. 

"Open it!" she giggles, so you do. 

Inside is a chocolate cupcake with light pink icing that almost topples off of it. You look up at Laura who is practically bursting at the seams with excitement. She rushes to explain why she has a secret cupcake out on the playground when snacktime was twenty minutes ago and you both know you aren't allowed to bring food outside.

"Cupcakes are the best desserts of all of them... okay well essept for chocolate chip cookies because those are the number one best... but cupcakes are like little tiny cakes that you can eat with your hands! How cool is that?! You just put the batter in these little tiny metal cups that come already made in a tray and then they come out as tiny cakes! THEN YOU GET TO FROST THEM WITH ANY FLAVOR YOU WANT CARM!!"

You don't miss the way Laura pronounces "except" without fully making the 'x' sound but it doesn't bother you the way it would if Elsie from the front row had said it that way. Laura is glancing from you to the cupcake and you realize this is one of those times that she expects you to say something. You're torn between giggling at this dork of a girl in front of you because she's acting like she just won a trip to Disneyland and confusion about the fact that she apparently has just discovered what a cupcake is. 

So instead, you just hold the cupcake back out to her and say, "It looks delicious. Did you frost it yourself?"

Laura seems satisfied with your conversational choice because she takes the little box back and nods to you, "Yeah! Mom helped me put them in the oven because she says that I'm too short to reach and that I'll fall over and burn myself," she pauses and rolls her eyes at you because Laura Hollis is nothing if not strong willed, "which isn't true because the doctor said I grew two whole inches the last time I went in for a check up. I could have put those cupcakes in myself. But it's okay though because mom let me lick the spoon when we were all finished cooking. I've been excited to eat this all day long but I saw Danny Lawrence looking at it during snack time, so I had to hide it so I wouldn't have to share it with her." Laura finishes and you're amazed she managed to tell you all of that without taking another breath. 

She carefully takes the cupcake out of the box and divides it in half. She's already taken a bite out of her half when she's holding out the other half of the cupcake to you. " 'Dis haf is fo 'ou" she manages around her bite and it takes you a few seconds to make sense of the words. 

You're confused because you're certain she just told you that she hid her cupcake all day so that she wouldn't have to share it. Laura rolls her eyes as she swallows the cupcake in her mouth and uses her now free hand to grab yours and place your half in it. "Carm, I said this half is for you!"

Your mouth opens a little bit out of the kindness of the gesture and you start to protest saying, "No Laura, this is your cupcake, you don't have to share it with-" 

"Carm, cupcakes are for sharing with best friends." Laura interrupts you. "Come on, let's go play over by the big tree."

She starts climbing out of the jungle gym tunnel just as you take your first bite of cupcake. She had just called you her best friend. You're not sure about how exactly two people become best friends, and you don't know if there's a contract or a best friend permission slip that you have to sign like the one your teacher sends home with you so Maman can sign it to agree that you're allowed to go on field trips, but you don't really care because you like the idea of Laura being your best friend.

She calls you again from outside the tunnel and you smile as you scramble out of it to follow her.  
You think that Laura is a little bit like the sun, only instead of warming you up from the outside, she makes you feel warm on the inside.

You're wiping the cupcake crumbs from your face when Danny Lawrence sees you from across the playground. She's got a jealous face on and you smirk her way because Laura Hollis called you her best friend and let you try the cupcake and Danny Lawrence didn't. 

//

The soccer field is just as green as it was when you left it a few days back after Kirsch had talked you into helping him learn how to play soccer. He's supposed to meet you here in an hour, but you're early for once in your life because you wanted time to clear your mind. You miss playing so much, but all of the doctors you have talked to have told you that you'll never be allowed to play competitive soccer again because your ankle is too unstable. They've cleared you to run and they have even told you that you're allowed to kick a ball around, but the risk of a tackle undoing all of the progress you've made through the surgery and your physical therapy is just too great. 

There's a tiny figure out on the opposite end of the pitch. They've got soccer balls piled up behind them and you watch as they methodically place one ball after the other on the penalty kick mark and take a shot. The longer you watch, the more frustrated you can tell the person is becoming, because the shots become more wild. The problem, you nice right away, is in the way they're following through. You squint a little bit to see better and you realize that you're watching Laura.

Her shoulders are set in determination but the closer you get to her, the more shots she misses, the more her shoulders start to fall in defeat.

Defeat is not a look that you'd prefer to see on Laura so as you start walking toward her, you call out "You can't separate accuracy and power." She startles a little and spins around to look at you. She stares at you for a second and then says, "Why doesn't it surprise me that you're a philosophy major."

Your brow furrows a little as you walk past her to the goal. What exactly does she mean by that? You lean against the goal post and shrug her way, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on Carmilla, who just walks up to someone playing a sport and says something like, 'you can't separate accuracy and power' to them? Were you talking about my shot or were you talking about politicians? The world may never know." She's smiling at you and shaking her head.

"Okay Sundance, enough with the mockery." You're using your best bored voice but her lingering smile tells you that she reads right through it. 

"I just meant that if you try to use too much power, your accuracy is going to decrease. The same way your power will decrease if you're focusing too much on accuracy."

She looks confused so you continue, "You're out here kicking the ball as hard as you can at the net because you're trying to develop a more powerful shot, correct?" She nods at you.

"Okay, but you're getting frustrated because you're not hitting the spot you're aiming for, right?"

"Or even on frame" she mutters under her breath and kicks at the ground. 

"So what I'm saying is that you're focusing entirely on power and then becoming frustrated when your accuracy suffers. You can't just blast the ball as hard as you can and then expect it to meet your mark. You have to maintain control of the ball. You have to figure out how hard you can take a shot and still hit your target. Once you've figured that out, you have to increase the power behind your shot little by little until you can hit the spot the majority of the time. It doesn't happen over night."

She looks like she's starting to understand, but you still think you haven't explained it very well. So you simplify by telling her what she needs to alter in her technique. "You're not following through enough. You should be landing on your shooting foot after you take your shot. It adds power to the ball and it helps to keep the ball on target." 

She nods at you and lines up a new ball. She takes a shot and this time instead of simply letting her foot simply fall back down to the ground after her shot, she takes a step through the ball and lands on her shooting foot. The ball hits the side netting of the upper left corner and you feel a rush of satisfaction. Laura jogs over to retrieve the ball from the net and grins up at you.

"Why are you practicing shooting anyway? I didn't know you were a soccer player." There's a lot of things you don't know about Laura.

"Oh, yeah, the coach agreed to let me have a walk on try-out for Silas since I transferred in and all but he wants to try me at forward because he thinks I'm too small to play center-mid. I don't see why that matters since he hasn't even seen me play yet, but I figured I'd better fine tune my short-range shots before practice if he wants me to play target because I'm used to taking distance shots. I lift the ball too much when I'm in the box, it's a bad habit." She finishes with a pink tinge to her cheeks.

She sets a new ball on the mark and gestures toward it as she takes a step back. "Okay, your turn."

Your stomach drops a little because the idea of taking a shot on goal terrifies you. You only had you've only been cleared to actually kick a ball for a few weeks now and you hadn't been able to bring yourself to do it. 

Laura notices your hesitation almost immediately.

“Why aren’t you on the team anymore?” 

Your scar burns a little bit at her words and you itch it with the tip of your shoe absentmindedly. 

“Guess it just wasn’t in the stars for me.” Your tone is nonchalant but your palms are itchy because you don’t want to have to explain your sob story to Laura, because it seems so petulant in the grand scheme of things. 

She narrows her eyes at you and purses her lips and you know that your answer hasn’t satisfied her. 

“No, really Carmilla. Why aren’t you playing anymore? Word on the team is that you were the best player Silas has ever seen. I’ve seen the team’s highlight reels, I’ve seen the goals you’ve scored. So why aren’t you playing anymore?”

She doesn’t mean to strike a nerve, or at least you don’t think that’s her intention. Laura doesn’t know who you are, no matter how comfortable you feel around her. She knew you better than anyone as a kid for a very short period of time but you’ve both changed since then. So you try to keep yourself from becoming defensive, but then Laura steps into your space and asks, “Why would you give all that up?” you clench your jaw and force yourself to walk away from her to keep yourself from lashing out.

Laura Hollis has no idea who you are anymore. She has no right to imply that you willingly gave up the only thing in your life you’ve ever been very good at. She has no idea who you are.

//

(Kirsch shows up later but you’re gone)

//

You’re sitting in your favorite nook in the science building reading a book when you hear the familiar voice of LaF from around the corner. You like this nook because most students have no idea it exists, in fact, you’ve never seen another student use it before. It’s tucked back behind a pillar toward the back of the building, so most people never even venture within five feet of the entrance. 

It serves you well because you can stay there for hours without anyone ever interrupting you. It also allows you to eavesdrop on the conversations of unwitting students on the other side of the wall. It is this advantage you're currently thankful for because LaF says “Per, really, I think that Laura can take care of herself.”

You immediately put down your book and shift toward the opening to the nook to hear the conversation happening outside a little better. 

“LaFontaine, I know you think that Laura is doing better because she’s actually willing to leave her dorm room and she’s finally decided that running across the country for college isn’t going to help her leave her problems behind, but I just don’t think Laura is okay. We’re all the family she has now, she needs us to take care of her, not for us to coddle her.”

Their voices are becoming distant, likely because they’ve started to walk away, so you can’t hear what they’re saying anymore.

Lola Perry’s words hang heavy in the air, "We’re all the family she has now." 

You knew that something must have happened to Laura to take that happy five year old and transform her into a ghost of the person you imagine she would have been, but you always assumed that catalyst had been triggered all those years ago. You wonder now if something else happened somewhere along the way.

And you wonder why LaF and Perry are her only family now when you know that Laura had always had a very invested and overly protective father. The implications of Perry’s words make your blood run cold and you hope that they don't mean something terrible has happened to another person in Laura's life.


End file.
